Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Wheels
I pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it to the floor. Goldie’s eyes traveled over my chest and stomach, slow and deliberate, like she was memorizing every scar and line. The hunger in her gaze felt like a physical weight, heavy and warm against my skin.
“You’re staring,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
“You’re worth staring at.” She reached for me, her palms sliding up my ribs, her thumbs brushing over my nipples, learning the shape of me. I shuddered, leaned in, and kissed her—deep and slow at first, savoring her taste and the lingering sweetness of want already building between us.
Her fingers found my belt and worked it loose. The leather slid free with a soft hiss. I groaned against her mouth, already half-mad for her as my hands found her hips and pulled her flush against me. She was soft where I was hard, and the contrast made my head spin.
I reached for the hem of her shirt, and she lifted her arms, letting me strip it off her.
Her bra followed, pale blue lace that I unhooked with shaking fingers.
I kissed my way down her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, closing my mouth over one nipple until she gasped and arched into me, her fingers tangling in my hair.
“Wheels,” she breathed, and I loved how wrecked she already sounded.
I moved to her other breast, lavishing attention there while my hands slid down to her waist, her hips, and finally to the button of her jeans. She helped me push them down, stepping out of them, and then she was reaching for my own pants, her knuckles grazing my stomach as she worked them open.
We undressed each other in pieces, hands fumbling and eager, but our mouths never far apart.
When she finally stood before me in nothing, the lamplight catching the gold in her hair and the flush spreading across her skin, I took a moment just to look at her.
I memorized the curve of her hip, the line of her thigh, and the triangle between her legs that promised everything.
“You’re beautiful,” I said, and I meant it more than I’d meant anything.
She smiled, uncertain and brave all at once. “So are you.”
I lifted her onto the bed and followed her down, the mattress dipping under our combined weight.
I stretched out beside her at first, kissing her slowly, letting her adjust to the feel of skin against skin, but she was having none of my patience.
She pulled me over her, between her legs, her heels digging into my back, and I kissed her until we were both shaking.
Both desperate and both saying each other’s names like promises we intended to keep.
I reached between us, found her wet and ready, and she moaned when I touched her.
Her hips lifted off the bed to meet my hand.
I worked her with my fingers, watching her face while learning what made her gasp and what made her still, until she was panting.
Her nails dug into my shoulders, and her head was thrown back against the pillow.
“Wheels,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Now. Please. I need you inside me.”
I guided myself into her, slow at first, feeling her stretch around me, hot and tight.
I watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered closed and her mouth opened on a silent cry.
She wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me deeper, and I lost any thought of going slow, any thought of anything but her.
We moved together, finding a rhythm that started gentle and grew desperate, her hips meeting mine thrust for thrust. I kissed her throat, her jaw, her mouth, tasting sweat and wanting more, always more.
She urged me on. Her voice broken as she cried out my name, and yes and there and harder spilling out of her like she couldn’t stop them.
I shifted my angle, and she cried out, her head snapping back, her body going rigid beneath me. “There,” she gasped. “Right there, don’t stop, please don’t stop—”
I didn’t. I kept the pace, kept the pressure, watching her unravel and feeling her tighten around me with every stroke.
She came first, her body seizing, her cry loud and unrestrained.
Her nails drew lines down my back that I knew I’d wear proudly tomorrow.
I followed her over, burying myself deep and groaning her name into her neck.
My vision whited out, and my whole world narrowed to the pulse of her around me.
To the heat of her, and the way she said my name like a prayer.
After, we lay tangled together with her head on my chest and my hand tracing lazy patterns on her hip, back, and anywhere I could reach.
The room smelled like us, like sex and sweat and satisfaction, the air still thick with it.
Her breathing slowed, matched mine, and I felt the moment she pressed a kiss to my shoulder, felt the curve of her smile against my skin.
“Again?” she asked, soft and hopeful, her fingers drawing idle circles on my stomach.
I laughed, low and satisfied, my chest rumbling beneath her cheek. “You’re insatiable, babe. Give me ten minutes.”
She bit my shoulder, playful, her teeth sharp and promising. “Five,” she countered.
I rolled her under me, pinning her wrists above her head, and she laughed, bright and happy, her eyes shining up at me. “Greedy,” I accused.
“Only for you.”
I kissed her, slow and thorough, and started counting down.